Come Freely, Go Safely
by liar.faker
Summary: London, 1897. Tyler Lockwood struggles with a curse that makes his life living hell. When he hears about a man, far away in the wild Carpathians, that can free him from his curse, he decides to take his chance. However, the mysterious man turns out to be much more dangerous than he thought. Not only does Tyler risk his life, but also the safety of his beloved Caroline. (dark)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Spring 1897

_Dearest Caroline,_

_The part of Europe I am passing through now is getting wilder and wilder. After we left France and Germany, a totally new world opened before us. There is something barbarian about the eastern landscape and its impenetrable woods. All I can hear is howling of the wolves, like they knew I'm coming. _

_We should get to the Carpathians tomorrow night, and according to my map I shall head to Transylvania, the land "beyond the forest", known for its bloodthirsty rulers. All I know is that I should ask the locals about Lord Niklaus and look for an old castle towering over a village. I spoke to a stranger I met at the train station in Buda-Pesth. Even though he tried to deny it, it was obvious he knew about the man I am searching for. His frightened look was the proof that Lord Niklaus really exists, Caroline! I will find him and I will break the curse for you. _

_I dream about you every night._

_Yours forever,_

_T._

The train crawls lazily uphill, its steam engine roaring and growling. The young, handsome man leans back in his seat, very uncomfortable he must say, and closes his eyes fighting a growing headache. Since he left Buda-Pesth there's been an uneasy feeling looming over him like a ghost.

He knows he doesn't have to do that. Never once did she tell him to go plunge into the unknown and risk his life to find a man that might, or might not, free Tyler from the control of the moon. She told him she didn't care about his _affliction_. She told him she wanted to be with him even if she had to chain him down in the cellar once a month. She even made a very unladylike comment about her being insufferable once a month too–for she finds shocking the others extremely amusing–and their conversation ended with laughter and kisses. Tyler smiles to himself as he remembers the moment of their parting. Caroline, that extraordinary and brave girl was the first and only one to accept him and love him just the way he was.

The glowing pink sky seems to be descending along with the sun, giving way to the night. The mountains, soaring and covered with a coniferous forest, seem even more sinister in the sunset. _Wolves will start howling again soon_, Tyler thinks biting his lip. Nobody knows that feeling better than him. The feeling of blood rushing through your veins as you roam around the woods and howl to the moon. When your sharp fangs tear flesh apart. When you taste raw meat with your tongue. When you wake up–naked, alone, and tired– in the middle of the woods, remembering the hunt. And when you learn that your six-year-old neighbour, a lovely chap, died a horrible death, torn apart by a pack of wolves.

You sink into despair and self-loathing, you cry and beg the Lord for mercy, yet it does not stop you from killing. Bloodlust is stronger than any inhibitions you may have.

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Caroline lets out an exasperated sigh as she closes a book. A loud clap of the covers causes a small cloud of dust that blows right into her face, making Caroline sneeze. She wrinkles her nose and places the book on the small night table next to her bed. The leather-bound volume entitled _Lycanthropy_ has been her source of spine-chilling bedtime stories for the past two weeks.

The bed sinks and slightly undulates under her tiny body covered only with a thin white linen. Her blue eyes stare blankly at the lavishly ornamented chandelier. _Werwulf_, she thinks. _Loup-garou_. _Hombre lobo_. Legends say they can be found even in the wilderness of Latin America, or on distant and exotic islands in the Caribbean. And of all places possible, one of them can be found here – in London. In the very heart of the civilized world.

While most of people emigrated to America, Elizabeth and Bill Forbes, Caroline's parents, moved to England for they inherited a house and quite a sum from Bill Forbes' aunt. Their only daughter was ten at that time, and she couldn't accustom herself to the new way of life. She hated the rusty class structure of English society and missed the feeling of freedom the green valleys of Virginia gave her. London seemed dirty, its rain–depressing, and its fog–scary. After she learned about Tyler's problem, now even thin mist makes her shiver. Who knows what else lurks in the shadows? If there are werewolves, Caroline muses fixing her stare at the chandelier light, the other monsters surely exist too. Maybe Jack the Ripper, an infamous murderer that still might be roaming around the streets of London, is a monster too, literally.

Beast. She never called Tyler so, nor did she call him a monster. To Caroline Tyler has always been her friend and her beloved, a lost boy with too much on his plate. Running a family business in a foreign country while struggling with lycanthropy isn't the easiest job in the world. He had hard time adjusting to the English lifestyle and Caroline, having done that before, helped a fellow American lost in a world of tea and biscuits. Then she helped him adjust to the world of claws and fangs, and somewhere along the way his troubled heart started beating faster for her.

"I want to break the curse for you," he says one day while holding her hands tightly in his trembling ones.

"You know I don't care about the _bloody_ curse," she huffs revealing how much London life grew on her. As a free spirit, she likes strolling around and listening to strangers on the street. She always picks up some words that would shock the others at a party–like _buor_ or _dewskitch_–to her great delight and her parents' indignation.

"But I don't want our children to carry the gene," Tyler reasons. "If that man does exist– " Caroline throws her arms up and heavily stomps her foot.

"What if he's a con man? Or what if he's worse than that? A warlock? Or a devil incarnate?"

"I'd make a deal with the devil if I have to."

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Tyler learns from his mistakes. Two of the inn owners throw him out after he asks about Lord Niklaus – and they don't even speak English. The name itself scares them to death. At the third inn he doesn't mention any names, he just smiles and slips money into the owner's hand instead.

So the mysterious stranger does exist. If he was just a myth, country folk wouldn't be _so_ frightened at the sound of his name. With their trembling hands they make the sign of the cross, and then they hiss, _diavol_!

Tyler's journey comes closer and closer to an end, which both thrills him and scares him. The prospect of happy, curse-free life with Caroline thrills him, but he knows everything has its price–and freedom has the highest one.

As he eats his humble dinner at the inn, he hears a hoarse voice with a heavy accent, "Do not go there." A beautiful gypsy sits down across the table and shakes her head, her thick curls bouncing as she does so. She's very young, sixteen or seventeen perhaps, and looks very exotic in the white dress against her olive skin. An exquisite beauty, if you don't count a long, nasty scar that goes down her throat and chest, then between her full breasts, and disappears somewhere under her clothes. Tyler blinks perplexedly and clear his throat.

"Excuse me, um, lady, but I am to be married and–"

"He vill take away everything you love." She clenches her fists on the table. Her dark eyes seem almost black now. Tyler swallows hard and opens his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"He vill never let you find peace."

"W–who...?"

"_Diavol_." Her eyes, hypnotizing and intense, now bore into his, keeping him transfix in his place. For a moment Tyler feels unable to move, frozen like a statue, with his mouth gaping at the woman in front of him. The spell is broken when the inn's owner sees the girl and starts shouting angrily in his native language. When she jumps to her feet Tyler wakes up from the daze. But before he can ask her more questions, she grabs the front of her dress and bolts for the door chased by the angry owner.

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"Caroline, I have to tell you something." Elena paces around Caroline's room blushing and huffing. The blonde watches her from her place on the big bay window ledge. It's her favourite spot, cosy thanks to many pillows surrounding her, and relaxing thanks to its view over the street. Like many romantic heroines, Caroline loves observing the streets, its routine, strangers rushing to and fro, people meeting briefly just to part their ways a second later, and romances that would never be born because of the aforementioned brevity. It's like watching an anthill, fascinating and overwhelming at once.

"Something's wrong, 'Lena?" Caroline frowns at her fretful companion. Elena Donovan _de_ _domo_ Gilbert is her dear friend, a woman of extraordinary Balkan beauty (inherited from her great-grand father) rarely seen in England, happily married to Matthew Donovan, a local doctor and a good man. Elena has never come to Caroline looking like that, restless and nervous.

"Please, don't judge me." The brunette begs, covering her face with her hands. So this is the reason of her restlessness, Caroline muses, is she... ashamed of something?

"I promise. Just sit down, you look distressed."

"I made a terrible mistake, Caroline, a _terrible_ mistake!" Elena sobs falling on Caroline's bed. Caroline pouts, wondering what the mistake could be. Elena was always the meek one, the good one, the saviour of the cursed and the damned while Caroline was the headstrong one, bossing around, speaking her mind and getting into arguments with everyone. If anyone is supposed to make mistakes, it's Caroline, with her temper and impulsiveness. Yet here she is, Elena Donovan on edge.

"I've met a man, Caroline. He's nothing like I've seen before. He's nothing like Matt. He's so..." Elena's breathing gets heavy again, her chest heaving, her cheeks burning like she was running a fever. "I couldn't resist him! Like he wasn't human or... Caroline, I think I'm going mad!"

"Elena, you did not–" Caroline gasps, shocked. Her friend bites her lower lip and a painful grimace appears on her face.

"I did. And I'm afraid that I– I may do it again."

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_Beloved Caroline,_

_I am writing this words sitting at a tavern in some village the name I cannot even pronounce. Tomorrow I am going to the castle in which Lord Niklaus is supposed to live. I can see it from the window. Thanks to my supernatural abilities I will climb that hill in less than a day. _

_I know you dream of travelling around the world. Let me tell you something about the place I am currently in, just to satisfy your curiosity. You would love the landscape here, especially by day, in summer. By night it transforms into something intimidating. The mountains are nothing you have seen in England or even in America–they are more majestic, more steep. _

_The locals are strange people, very superstitious and distrustful. They burn the corpses of people that died a sudden, tragic death so the dead cannot haunt the living. They also believe some people can have two souls. The most known dead haunting the living are known as the _strigoi_. Fear of the dead is omnipresent. In moments like this I am grateful for being one of the monsters instead of their prey._

_But please do not worry about me. I promise my next letter will bring happy news, and a smile to your beautiful face. I bought a necklace from a local jeweller for you. I can't wait to see you wearing it. _

_With love,_

_T. _

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Elena leaves Caroline's house after a good hour of crying, feeling relieved that she can share the burden with her friend now. Sometimes she still thinks it was all in her head. It seemed so surreal, so dream-like. Even Caroline couldn't believe her at first. Handsome stranger that swept her off her feet with a few smooth words right in the middle of an empty street? Stories like that don't happen, except for novelettes Elena is so passionate about. And there's that tiny little detail about her being married. She does love Matt. He's a good man and a good husband. Yes, she loves him, and she should stop hankering after some stranger that brought disgrace on her.

The romantic brunette sighs as she crosses the road. It's late, and Matt might start to worry soon. They live nearby, so there's no need to take a car, but in the evening the way home seems longer and scary. Thick fog is drifting high above the pavement, shrouding the streetlamps like a veil. Her footsteps–even her own shadow–make her feel uncomfortable.

There's a shadow lurking over the corner, observing the girl, his eyes hungrily following her tiny steps. Elena is too deep in thought to notice a hand reaching for her neck from behind. Its fingers are ready to clasp around her delicate neck and drag her into a dark alley.

All Elena hears is a swish, like something has just cut the air. She turns away instantly, but nobody's there. The street is deadly silent. It must have been her vivid imagination, she tells herself, but quicken the pace nevertheless.

Her attacker crouches in the small side street, clutching at the wooden stake stuck in his stomach. Blood is sipping out of the wound, but the man doesn't seem to be dying.

"Well, well, well." He pants with fatigue, but his voice sounds oddly content. "I haven't seen a hunter in London for decades."

"And I have been looking for you for years now." A figure steps into the light. A tall fair-haired man in his twenties with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Ripper."

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me." The man pulls the stake out and straightens up. Now, in a faint light of a streetlamp, the hunter can see his face. He looks young, surely not much older than the hunter himself, his coat fashionable, his hair smooth. A true gentleman, or so it seems. Only that his heart has rotten long time ago, and feelings were replaced by bloodlust. Smiling, he reveals his sharp fangs coated with blood that's also dripping down his chin. He must have fed just minutes ago. Some poor lady didn't have as much luck as the one that has just been saved. You can't save everyone, can you?

"It is very rude not to reveal your name, hunter." Ripper grins with a look of a maniac in his eyes.

"Very rude indeed. So let me introduce myself." The blonde nods, and in a blink of an eye he gets to the creature delivering a flying kick to his face. "My name is Galen Vaughn. But don't bother to remember it. You'll be dead in a moment anyway, leech."

His opponent falls to the ground, but not for long. With an inhuman speed he's back on his feet just a second later. He even seems pleased with the turn of events. The perverted smirk on his face doesn't fade.

"You have no idea how much I missed a good fight." The vampire licks his lips and lunges at the hunter. The both fall down and start rolling on the cobbles. The sound of punches delivered and heavy panting fills the alley. When they are on their feet again, Ripper throws Vaughn in the air, making him bash against the brick wall. The hunter quickly recovers and pulls out a tiny crossbow out of his pocket. The vampire prepares for the attack when he gets shot in the neck with a series of small arrows. For the first time his face twists in a grimace.

"Thirsty?" Galen Vaughn mocks him. "I thought you might fancy a shot of verv–" Suddenly something hard falls on his head, sending him unconscious to the ground. The vampire is about to get to the hunter in one jump and finish him off, but then he remembers about the curse. He tears the arrows out of his neck and dashes into the street.

A third man emerges from the shadows. He checks the hunter's pulse and sighs with relief. Just a severe concussion, the lad will live. It's not advisable to kill a hunter. Apart from the whole curse thing, they have been foes for years now, and everyone knows how difficult it is to find a decent arch-enemy these days.

"Sorry old sport," he says patting him on the shoulder, "but he's still my little brother." Tipping his hat, the man walks away.

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Not even a candle burns in the castle that's towering above the village. The pallid light of the waxing moon seeps lazily through the window. Two men are standing with their hands clasped behind their backs, hiding in the shadows, looking down at the dense, impenetrable woods beneath them.

"A wolf is coming here." One of them says sounding curious.

"So I've heard." The other responds flatly.

"If you let him come so close, you must have some plans regarding him, I suppose."

"Maybe I do. Or maybe I'm just bored and want to play a little." The second one smirks in the dark, and the first snorts.

"A means to an end, like always, brother?"

"Like always."

The wind outside grows stronger, and the dark clouds cover the sky, blocking the moonlight. The men sink into the pitch-black darkness.

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**TBC**

Okay, so I have no idea what it is. All I know is that **if** it turns into a story, it's going to be dark, bloody, and not everyone will make it to the end.


	2. wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming

**A/N:** Hi guys! Thank you for the warm welcome this story received. You inspired me to turn it into a full fic. Wow. You. Are. Amazing.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming**

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."

—Edgar Allan Poe

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Tyler has been dreading this moment since he left London.

People may think they are prepared for moments like this—but they never are. They are never prepared for the biggest challenge in their lives just like they are never prepared to die.

Nothing else would be as suggestive as a heavy ornate door knocker in form of a devil's twisted face baring a pair of fangs at the intruder. Tyler takes the last look at the brassy door with elaborate carvings on it. To say the castle towers over the village would be a huge misunderstanding. It completely dominates it, casting a gloomy shadow from the steep mount, haunting the dreams of the locals.

He lingers in front of the door, unable to muster a knock. Once his hand lands on the knocker, there is no way back. The fear grips him like a small girl tugging at her father's sleeve, telling him _let's go back, I don't like it here. _

The silence of the night is broken by a colony of bats that rush squealing and flapping around the castle. Then a long, solitary, deep howl cuts the air, sending shivers down Tyler's spine. This cacophony spurs him to grab the handle of the door knock. One, two, three loud knocks. Coming in is as dangerous as staying outside, there's no doubt about it, but at least he'll have a roof over his head.

Not a sign of life, not even a sound of footsteps coming over. Tyler knocks again and waits some more. Determined to get inside, he pushes against the massive door and is surprised to find it open. Like a thief, he sneaks inside and tries to quietly close the door behind him. Yet the door has mind on its own and creaks, or rather grinds loudly, making Tyler grit his teeth. Taking a deep breath, he straightens up and decides to find the owner of the castle. He's in what looks like a vast hall, and there's an old staircase with a decorative banisters right in front of him. Two hallways go to the left and right, just like those at the top of the stairs.

"Hello?" He calls casting a wary look around. "Anybody here?"

A second later he is slammed against the door feeling a grip on his throat that gets tighter and tighter, cutting off the air. The carvings on the door cut into his back. He winces in pain and fights not to squeeze his eyes shut when he hears a voice speaking calmly with a proper British accent Tyler's so accustomed to now.

"I've warned you many times, haven't I?" The grip on Tyler's neck gets even tighter, the nails dig into Tyler's flesh like it was clay. "Yet here you are." He can't be human, Tyler thinks, not with this kind of speed and power. Is he a werewolf too?

Tyler can't say whether the man is amused or irritated—most probably he's both. The young werewolf gathers all the strength he has and grabs onto the wrists that are keeping him against the door. The man doesn't even budge, cold and hard as a stone. A war cry escapes Tyler's throat, and with his forehead veins bulging, he finally manages to push the man away, breaking free from his grip. Tyler's not sure whether it's just his imagination, or the man really smirks at his move.

"Aren't you bold." He says slowly through the gritted teeth, the smile vanishes from his face. Tyler takes a better look at the stranger now. There's an ireful, wild look—the one of a pirate—in the man's eyes, but otherwise he appears composed and royally cynical.

"My name is Tyler Lockwood, and I come in peace." Tyler pants out, his back still pressed against the door.

"I know why you're here, Tyler Lockwood." The man cuts him off and turns away, his hands clasped behind his back. He's indeed a lord. Dressed in a white shirt and a gray waistcoat, he looks like a typical English gentleman, smooth and elegant. What is a nobleman like him doing in the wilderness of Transylvania?

Tyler clears his throat and speaks a bit louder, "You're my only hope, Lord Niklaus."

The man turns abruptly and sends Tyler a furious glare. "Guess how many werewolves came to me begging for help?" He growls, and then, with a malicious smirk playing on his lips, he adds, "You can count their bones in the _dungeon_ below."

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"How are you feeling?" Caroline sits down by the small tea table and inhales the scent of herbal infusion the British are so fond of. She admires the fancy dragon-like teapot brought by Elena's uncle, John Gilbert, a co-owner of a major tea company, straight from China.

"Great." Elena beams at her friend, but it's that polite yet wary smile that women tend to give just before they ask puzzled, "Why?"

"You didn't look well yesterday, when you... I mean, after your confession." Caroline tries not to stir things up, but Elena still seems clueless.

"What confession?" Her friend frowns but doesn't stop smiling.

"About that mysterious man? You know." The blonde nods at Elena conspiratorially. Maybe Elena's playing clueless in case Matt comes in? But it's teatime, and her husband is supposed to be at work. He always works at the asylum till late hours, which is Elena's most frequent subject of complaints.

"_What_ mysterious man, Caroline?" Elena lets out a laugh, shaking her head at her friend.

"You came to me yesterday to talk about the man who... Who..."

"What are you talking about? I came to you yesterday to talk about the dresses I ordered from France." The smile on Elena's face turns into a petulant grimace.

"No, you came on the verge of tears, all distressed about the stranger you met—"

"Caroline," Elena sais firmly, getting up from her chair, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I think you either read too much romance or you're not feeling well."

Caroline is about to protest and stand her ground, but when she opens her mouth to speak, words get stuck in her throat. Instead she just nods with a sigh, "You're right. Since Tyler left I've been having nightmares. Every night is a torment."

Elena, seized by compassion and relieved to know Caroline's just melancholic, sits back down and reassuringly squeezes Caroline's hand. Caroline made up a story about Tyler's going away on business. Nobody knows about Tyler's lycanthropy. Nobody knows about an eccentric nobleman from Eastern Europe. Nobody knows Tyler's life is in danger.

"He'll be back soon, Caroline. I'm sure he will." Nothing helps better than some half-hearted words of comfort coming from a happily married, problem-free beauty. They have been friends since the day Caroline came to London, and Elena was always very kind to her, but Caroline couldn't help but feel like the second best. When they both met Matthew Donovan at one of Elena's uncle's famous parties, Caroline was completely infatuated with the young doctor. He was sweet and smart and genuinely interested in Caroline... until Elena came into view, of course. One doe-eyed, longing glance, and Caroline lost her chance to retain Matt's attention. And so came six painful months of Elena's detailed confessions, dilemmas, reflections on life, on time passing by, and on possible husbands. When she finally decided to grace Matt with a _yes_, Caroline's smile was as wide as the wound in her heart.

She couldn't help but blame the pretty Gilbert girl for everything she couldn't have.

"Yeah." Caroline nods her head thoughtfully, and goes back to staring at her—now uninvitingly lukewarm—cup of tea. Her fingers play on its brim, careful not to touch the yellowish liquid.

"How's Matt?" She ask vacantly, her face devoid of any emotions.

"Absent. Like always." The brunette sighs in a melodramatic way. She loved the attention and adoration coming from her husband, and lately it's been hard for her to accept _science_ as Matt's mistress. "He's so passionate about his newest case. He just can't stop talking about it. A new patient of his claims to have seen—just imagine—the living dead!"

Caroline's head jerks up like she's just woken up from a dream, and she blinks, astonished, at Elena. "What do you mean the living dead?" For her there's more to that than just the thrilling element of surprise.

"Well, according to that madman the legends are true." Elena shrugs nonchalantly, secretly happy about being the centre of attention again. "He says there are monsters out there that live on human blood and can suck you dry!" She bares her teeth and put two index fingers to her mouth, pretending to have fangs. Caroline's horrified face makes Elena burst into laughter.

"You should have seen yourself a few seconds ago!" She giggles, hiding her face in her hand and peeping through her fingers. Caroline's face remains ghostly pale, almost as white as the asylum walls. "Are you okay, Care?"

"Actually I think I should go home and get some rest." The blonde mumbles and slowly rises from her chair, propping herself against the small table. Elena rushes to her friend, helping Caroline to wait till the dizziness passes.

"I'll tell Matt to drop by later for a check-up."

"No, Elena, it's okay. Thank you. Maybe I just need some fresh air." Caroline musters a faint smile and heads towards the door. When she finally leaves her friend's house, her forehead is iron-hot from shock she's experienced.

If werewolves exist, why wouldn't vampires walk the Earth too? And if vampires are out there, hiding in the shadows... Who knows what awaits Tyler in the godforsaken Carpathians?

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Tyler is still leaning against the heavy door. Right now, when his heart is racing like a frightened horse, he regrets coming to this castle. He regrets having hope. He was looking for answera, but he's found a lunatic instead. Yet, even though he's scared stiff, he doesn't move when Lord Niklaus approaches him in a few long strides and stops just before Tyler's face. The werewolf inhales sharply, but his eyes remain firmly fixed on Klaus'. Just a few inches separate them, and it would take only a second or two for Klaus to rip Tyler's heart out.

Klaus hisses with contempt, his voice venomous, "What makes you think you're better than those dead corpses in the dungeon, Tyler Lockwood?"

Tyler grits his teeth. "I am a wealthy man. Just say the price."

"Every one of them offered me money, gold, estate, even their wives and children." Klaus spits. "Are you really such a fool to think I would want whatever you are so eager to give up?"

Not a word escapes Tyler's mouth as he lowers his eyes, defeated.

If the dead could speak from beyond the grave, they would warn Tyler Lockwood that Lord Niklaus is a con man that preys on the naive. Looking at the intruder, a thought comes to Klaus' mind. Why not delude the boy with some empty promises before killing him? It's been so long since he last had a guest. It's been so long since someone grovelled at his feet.

"Well, maybe there is a price, after all." He says with one corner of his mouth slightly up. "Let me show you something, boy."

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The anxiety renders her sleepless and restless. There hasn't been any letter from Tyler yet, and she's dying at the thought of what could have happened to him somewhere in those deep forests. He assured her a creature like him wouldn't get hurt easily, but what if... What if Europe is a land of the supernatural? What if he, a foreigner, gets attacked by his own kind? Or, what if he decides never to go back?

She is so selfish. She doesn't know what she fears more—that he could die, or that he could leave her. He's her only true friend.

As if Tyler's journey wasn't enough, she thinks she's getting more and more paranoid about Elena's words. She's afraid to look through the window at night, and when she sleeps she pulls the covers up her neck as if one of _them_ was hiding behind the curtains. What if vampires aren't just a legend? What if they are creeping around every corner? Can they read minds? Is a vampire bite lethal?

She keeps observing people on the street. She keeps staring at them, trying to figure out whether they are suspiciously pale or simply strange. Today she saw a man with piercing blue eyes—that kind of impossible bright blue that appears only on portraits. When their eyes met she felt shivers run down her spine. Call the girl crazy, but she's sure he wasn't human. Those eyes couldn't belong to a human.

Elena's acting oddly too, like she had some memory gaps. Is she stealing opium from Matt's medical stash, or is it something more... supernatural?

Oh God, Caroline, you're losing your mind, aren't you?

_._

_._

_._

The dungeons are a horrifying sight, even for a man that slaughtered people as a bloodthirsty wolf. The silence is so overwhelming it's ringing in Tyler's ears. There are bones everywhere blackened with dirt and time. Tyler's face twists in pain when he accidentally steps on one of them, and the loud crack echoes in the dungeon like a cry of the dead. Klaus just smirks a cynical smirk and leads his guest to an empty crypt.

There's a hiding place in one of the stone walls. Klaus pushes one brick and the other moves out. He pulls a small ornamented box out of the hole, and opens it turning to his companion. Tyler frowns at the sight of a tiny red vial resting on a piece of satin.

"_Blood_ is the key. It's life, it's power. Breaking the curse took a lot of time, a lot of magic, and many innocent lives, not that I care about the last part." Klaus cocks an eyebrow at Tyler, testing whether the boy is touched by any of his words. "But I couldn't _share_ my happiness and freedom with other werewolves."

Tyler clears his throat as it gets sore from the dirt and dust hanging in the air. "Why?"

"Because the trick was that in order to, let's say, _free_ the others, I needed more Petrova's blood. Unfortunately, the last Petrova, Katerina, died during the sacrifice." Klaus observes, emotionlessly and cynically, how Tyler's face turns from hopeful to desperate.

"So there is no way to break it anymore?" His guest quavers. "Not even a _glimmer_ of hope?"

Oh yes, Klaus thinks. It's the moment they start to beg.

"Here's the last few drops I managed to collect before she gave up the ghost." He says and looks down at the box. The spark in Tyler Lockwood's eyes makes Klaus laugh internally. He cackles at the poor traveller and his inevitable death at Klaus' hands. He'll die thinking Klaus is setting him free. Well, he is, in a sense. He will feed him his blood and break his neck, then watch the fool writhe in pain, crying bloody tears and begging for mercy like many of his kind had done before.

"What makes you think you deserve it more than others?"

Tyler, however, stays silent and his stare gets fixed at something behind Klaus' back. "Impossible," he whispers under his breath, "It's impossible."

Irritated by lack of attention, Klaus turns away and then laughs out loud. Poor boy is staring at the small portrait of Katerina Petrova that hangs on the wall right above the secret hiding place.

"Beautiful, wasn't she?" Klaus muses. "But don't get fooled by the pretty face. The Petrovas' allure was as much a blessing as a curse."

"I know her." Tyler shakes his head, shocked.

"I doubt it." Klaus gives Tyler a sour, tight-lipped smile. How dare he come to his house, demand help, and then tell downright lies right into Klaus' face.

"I _do_ _know_ her. Believe it or not, but I do! How's that even possible?" At this point Klaus would break the intruder's neck, but the shock on Tyler's face seems so real. Too real to be feigned.

In less than a second Klaus' hand is back on the young werewolf's throat. His furious eyes turn yellow and then darken, just like Tyler's when he's about to turn into a wolf. Then his pupils dilate. Suddenly Tyler feels powerless and unable to move, like a puppet in someone's hands. Nothing matters now when he's in a hypnotic state of limbo, staring back at the black void of Klaus' eyes.

"Tell me the truth! Now!" Klaus growls. "Do you know a girl that looks like Katerina Petrova?"

"I do." The boy confesses absently like he was under some kind of a spell. "It's Elena Donovan, my fiancee's best friend."

The grip on his neck loosens, and the next thing Tyler feels is the hard stone ground he falls down onto. Klaus stares at him, poker-faced, clutching at the box. So the Petrova line has been continued. Someone must have stolen Katerina's baby and carry it away. What an irony, Klaus snorts, that the girl was saved only to condemn all her descendants to the fate of a doppelganger. And how convenient that now he has a ticket to the unaware doppelganger's world. Now the impossible becomes possible again.

Klaus tries his best not to show any sign of excitement, but deep inside he's beside himself with joy. "Well then, my friend" He extends his right hand and helps Tyler get up from the ground, "looks like you've earned yourself a cure."

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When the letter reaches Caroline's hands they are too shaky to open it. She has to ask a maid to do it for her. Then, befuddled and tense, she looks down at the piece of elegant, ornamented paper.

_Dearest Caroline,_

_I don't know what to tell you first. You have no idea how happy I am right now. I fall asleep with a smile on my face because I know we're going to be together soon. _

_The moon doesn't control me anymore! Lord Niklaus has been more than generous to me. Not only did he free me from the curse, but he also introduced me to his brother, Lord Elijah, and let me stay at his castle. We've spent a few evenings in front of a large fireplace, talking and drinking wine, and I think I've found a friend in him. I admit, he seemed scary at first, but then I realized he's just lonely and misunderstood. That's why I offered him a trip to London. I will be honoured to have him as my guest. We have to wait a week until everything's arranged and he can come with me to London. I can't wait for you to meet him. You'll understand my enthusiasm. _

_I'm counting down the days till I see your beautiful smile again._

_T._

Caroline claps her hands and squeaks with joy, jumping in her place. She can't remember the last time she felt so relieved. So elated.

She forgets about myths, vampires, and Elena's whims.

Right now Caroline wants to go out and hug random strangers right on the street.

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Wood's cracking in the fireplace. The glasses clank in a toast to Klaus' health.

"So, tell me about your friends. I would like to meet them while in London." Klaus encourages his guest. The more he knows about Tyler's world, the better for him. He has so many plans concerning Tyler, that doppelganger girl, and maybe some old friends he hopes to meet in London.

Klaus makes a mental note to remember every detail from Tyler's story. He's studied people for centuries to the point they're now open books for him. In many ways humans are like vampires. Instead of blood they crave attention and feed on it just as greedily. The difference between the two species is that while blood means power, every hint or bit of information you give the others strips you of your strength. They tend to forget that the line between friends and enemies is as thin as a spider's web.

Speaking of friends... There's Matt Donovan, a good and respected psychiatrist, very invested in his work at the asylum. He was the first man to greet Tyler in London, and they became even closer when Matt introduced Tyler to his wife's American friend, Caroline Forbes. Matt's married to Elena Gilbert, a gushing socialite and a dead-ringer for Katerina Petrova.

"Because of the wolf thing I have very few friends." Tyler admits as he sits with Klaus in his library, sipping red wine. His werewolf curse activated when he killed a thief that broke into his house back in America and threatened his family. After a series of tragic deaths his werewolf form caused, Tyler decided to run away to England. He's been a lone wolf since then.

"I'd be nothing without Caroline."

He tells Klaus that everything, absolutely everything—the pain caused by every full moon, the dangers of such a journey, and the risk he's put his life at—it was all for her.

"Amor vincit omnia." Klaus smiles bitterly at his glass. "Love conquers all." _Or so they say,_ he adds in his mind. Nothing he's ever felt in his life was even remotely close to love. Maybe once, when he was human, he took a quickened heartbeat for a sign of passion. His hopes, however, were crushed right away, and he never thought about his heart again.

"I've done horrible things, such horrible things, yet she's forgiven me." Tyler sighs at the memory of Caroline's arms wrapped around him while he was curled on the floor, sobbing after killing that little boy. Or when he lost control and almost hurt her on a full moon. She was there for him when he got sad news about his father passing away and demolished his living room in a fit of rage. Caroline, his best friend, she kept him sane.

"You should consider yourself very lucky then." Klaus muses playing with the slender-stemmed glass. "At the end of the day all we want is forgiveness."

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When Tyler's drunk on wine and fast asleep, Klaus' curiosity takes the better of him. He sneaks into his guest's room with the intention of using an old trick his sister taught him. Let's see how many memories Klaus can see in Tyler's dreams. He closes his eyes, concentrates, and feels the defence walls of Tyler's subconscious melt like ice.

He sees Matt Donovan the doctor, nothing special about him. Just a human with a big heart and even bigger interest for science. He's met so many Matt-Donovans in his life. Their enthusiasm usually dampened when they faced the undead—Nature's self-contradictory, bastard children. There's the doppelganger, as beautiful as the original one, and twice as vain. She's everything Tatia and Katerina were, and then something more.

He can't help but rejoice. After centuries of despair and licking wounds, Klaus is able to finish what he started.

Suddenly he finds himself in a ballroom dimly lit with candles that bring out the golden paint on the walls. One wall is entirely covered with mirrors, and his eye catches his—or, he should rather say, _Tyler's_—reflection. He looks around intrigued by Tyler's dream, and then hears a faint heartbeat somewhere in the room.

There's a woman standing in the doorway, wearing a royal blue dress that every princess Klaus ever knew would die for. Soft curls fall around her face that's hidden behind a mask lavishly ornamented with all kinds of trinkets, colourful feathers, lace, and pearls. Slowly, almost teasingly, she walks up to him, with an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.

As if on cue, Klaus takes her hand and pulls her against him, his other hand resting on her waist. The sudden move makes their bodies clash against each other, and Klaus feels a wave of heat sweeping over him.

Strings, harp, flute, and trombone fill the room.

They waltz to a triple beat, steadily at first, but then gradually picking up the tempo. The faster they dance, the faster the world spins around them. One-two-three—the candle lights flicker around them—one-two-three—blurring into a sea of flames. Klaus can't take his eyes off her icy blues that stare at him cryptically from behind the mask. She keeps her mysterious smile on, and her expression doesn't change a bit even when Klaus' hand presses harder at her back crushing her against his chest. One-two-three—the room is whirling like a merry-go-round and so is Klaus' head. One-two-three—the beauty tilts her head back, letting out a quiet laugh. Maybe it's the radiance of her smile, or the warmth that she emanates that makes Klaus' dead heart skip a beat.

More and more the waltz resembles a wild chase. Klaus quickens his steps ready to tire her out, yet she keeps pace with him. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three—suddenly he spins the girl around to throw her off balance, and once again she astonishes him with a graceful pirouette that ends their frantic dance. And just when she stretches out her arms in a winning pose, Klaus' hand shoots out of nowhere and tears the mask off her face.

What he sees makes his eyes grow wide. She's Aphrodite in all her glory. Striking. Extraordinary. He stands there, gaping at her, words stuck in his throat. He's just seen she's strong and exuberant. Now he sees she's also beautiful and full of light.

Before he can think of many other adjectives that could describe this mystery of a girl, she cups Tyler's face—his face—in her hands, and pulls him into a long, tender kiss. Klaus feels like every fiber in his body reacts to the touch of her lips. It may be just a memory of some lovesick pup, but it seems so real. As real as lust and hunger and every other thing he's felt in his long existence. Passion? Lust? All too familiar to him. But not this.

Never in his life has he been treated with such tenderness. The way her gentle hand strokes his cheek—Tyler's cheek—a _caress_ that makes his body freeze and a _torture_ that sets him ablaze. Klaus grabs her by the back of her neck, violently pressing his lips against hers. The girl lets a quiet moan that make Klaus shiver with excitement. She tastes like wild berries he used to pick in the woods when he was a child.

He can sense the affection she has for Tyler. Love. Loyalty. He can feel it on his own skin—and he hates the boy for it.

A wave of jealousy sweeps over him.

He hates the young werewolf for the way she touches his face.

He hates him for her dazzling smile that's meant for his eyes only.

He feels an indescribable, burning desire to have what Tyler has. To own her light and her beauty.

Klaus deepens the kiss and the girl gives in, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the favour. It's not a chaste kiss of a well-mannered upper middle class girl, certainly not. She's a glorious kisser—sweet and rough at the same time, rapturous, daring. His hands roam over her back, revering in the impossible smoothness of her skin. If it wasn't for her beating heart, Klaus would think she's a nymph or a fairy.

The intriguing blonde breaks the kiss and pulls him into a hug instead, placing her head in the crook of his neck. Klaus closes his arms around her keeping her slender form in his embrace and rocking slowly to the sides. His fingers play with her golden curls, stroking her head, and his chin rests on her head. The whole world ceases to matter when he holds her.

"What's your name?" He whispers into her ear. She pulls back to face him, and then sheer horror paints on her face. Breaking out of his embrace, the girl turns away, picks up her dress, and starts to run. "Wait!" Klaus reaches out to grab her by the wrist, and then—

—all of a sudden, the memory ends, and Klaus wakes up from the dream. He finds himself leaning with his back against the wall, the ghost of her warm body still clinging to him. He stares down at his empty hands, hands that were touching her just a minute ago. It's been so long since he held someone this way.

The sleeping form in the bed stirs, tosses, and turns. Klaus' breaking into his dream considerably disturbed Tyler's sleep. It would be too risky to get into his guest's head again. Klaus' fists clench in anger when he realizes he won't be able to see the girl once more.

He joins his hands together and brings them to his lips in a praying gesture, thinking intensively about the dream. It was too tangible to be a mere fantasy. It was a memory—_she_ was a memory. She must be real then, and Tyler knows her.

Tyler knows her...

Klaus' lips twist into a wolfish grin. "Caroline."

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Caroline awakes with a gasp, clutching at her breast. Her heart is pounding, and she struggles to catch her breath. A drop of sweat falls down her forehead. She's so exhausted, and her legs hurt as if she's just danced the night away.

She doesn't know why—she can't _remember_ why—but both her body and her mind are on fire.

All she can think of is Swan Lake waltz playing in her head over and over again.

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**TBC**

**A/N: What's playing in your heads, my dear readers?**


	3. loser's knowledge

**Chapter 2**

**loser's knowledge**

It all depends on the robber's knowledge of the loser's knowledge of the robber.

—Edgar Allan Poe

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The thick, stale air of London, at last! He takes a deep breath, revelling in the smell of pollution and death. How he missed the greenish fog in the largest city in the world. The city so dirty it's like an open sewer. He remembers the times when the windows of the Houses of Parliament were covered with sheets soaked in bleaching powder. Poverty spreads like cholera. The poor scratch a living fishing out dead bodies from the river, seeking valuable objects that thieves might have missed. People die on the streets. Filthy prostitutes infect their clients. Every brothel smells of decay. Rubbish in the slums. Destitute citizens drinking themselves to death with the Thames water. Unlike the rich, the needy don't have opium to dull their senses.

"My dear morbid London." With his hands clasped behind his back Klaus stands on the rooftop of his new mansion, staring at the full moon hovering over the city. The moon stares back, as if it knew the devious plan that's formed in Klaus' head.

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Biting cold wakes Galen Vaughn up. His eyes shoot open as he shivers. He struggles to sit up, but to his utter confusion he finds himself tied down to a bed. The stone walls around him are covered with dust and dirt.

"Hello?" He makes an effort to call out. "Anybody there?" The only response he gets is an echo bouncing off the walls. The leather straps are tight, too tight for him to break free. Everything is distorted. And his head is pounding like all drums in Hell.

The metal door to his room give a little creak. Vaughn cranes his neck in anticipation. The shadow of a lab coat enters the room first. A man around his late twenties follows. He adjusts the glasses on his nose and clears his throat.

"My name's Matthew Donovan. I'm your doctor." He sounds like he's caught a cold. He probably spends too much time inside this cold building.

"I don't need a doctor." Vaughn lets out an elaborated breath. The numbness in his arms and legs leaves him paralyzed. "Let me out. I have my duties."

"You mean hunting vampires?"

Galen Vaughn narrows his eyes at doctor Donovan.

"Look, we found you a couple days ago. Someone dropped you bleeding and delirious at the threshold. You had short intervals of consciousness in which you got very violent. We had to sedate you. Many times."

"You don't understand. I need to leave—"

"To fight evil. I know." Matthew Donovan has heard the story. Poor lunatic, the doctor thinks, he must have taken too much opium. His feverish ravings didn't make any sense. Nevertheless, it's the most interesting case he's had. His patients might claim to see the ghosts of their dead relatives. He's treating people suffering from the mad hatter's disease too. But the man convinced he's killing vampires... No, this is something absolutely terrifying and fascinating at the same time.

The patient wrestles against the ties. A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead. The whole world might end up on fire soon and he's stuck in a hospital. Vaughn's eyes flutter. Donovan's silhouette gets blurry again. Colours fade. Everything's is just a...

"There is no such thing as vampires." Doctor says and makes a short note in his calendar. "I shall check on you in the evening." Even after he closes the heavy door behind him he hears his patient's last angry scream.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! THEY ARE COMING—"

Exhausted and powerless, Galen Vaughn drifts off into a fitful sleep again.

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Elena has a superb taste in clothing. It comes as no surprise that she chooses the most beautiful (and the most expensive) piece from the London's famous dress-maker, Miss Jenna Sommers. The woman is as gifted at dressmaking as Elena is at bewitching men. No wonder the two are close friends.

Caroline settles for a simple one, even though she never fancied herself in green. It doesn't really matter, Caroline consoles herself, because today she gets to finally see Tyler. Yes, Tyler's back—safe and sound, and cured from lycanthropy.

She hurries down the street, the box in her hands and Tyler on her mind. It's a busy morning for many Londoners. Gossips about the party Tyler's throwing tonight seem to spur people into action. Crème de la crème of London society will be there to celebrate his return from the alleged business trip and to welcome the mysterious nobleman Tyler had invited.

They say he's the richest man in Europe.

They say he'll make Tyler's business thrive.

They say he's old and will die soon and Tyler will inherit every penny.

For goodness sake, aren't people plain stupid?

He might be eccentric, ye gods, he might be a dwarf for all she cares! He is Tyler's saviour, and this makes him a man of great importance.

The internal rant is too much of a distraction. The blonde hotfoots down the street deep in thought, and the moment she comes back to reality is the moment she collides with something much bigger than her. The world spins around as she struggles for balance. Two strong arms catch her and hold her in a tight embrace, but the damage is inevitable. The box with her dress opens up and lands in the muddy puddle. The fabric becomes an ugly mess.

Caroline cries in shock, pressing her face into the stranger's chest. His arms are still protectively wrapped around her form. The buttons of his velvet coat cuts into the skin of her cheek. She jumps away like a scalded cat.

"I— I'm sorry, I got distracted." Caroline takes a sharp breath. His top-hat is so low while the collar of his coat is too high, she can barely see his face.

"I am the one that should apologize, my lady. I didn't mean to scare you." The man inclines his head. He sounds like a true Londoner. Still, there is something highly disturbing about him. No amount of hand-wringing could express Caroline's bewilderment at the moment.

He turns away and picks the soaked box from the ground. "I'm afraid your dress cannot be restored to its former glory."

Caroline's chin quavers—but not with sadness. It's anger. "Well, maybe the maids could clean it up." She mutters, well aware that even April, her most devoted maid, can't magically make the London dirt disappear from the dress. Running her hands through the mess her hair became she adds, "Or I'll just wear something old."

"I'll be honoured to fix it. It would be an affront to your beauty if you wore something... _average_ to the ball. "

Caroline takes a gander at his full, pale lips that twist into a half-smile. How does he know about the party? She's about to inquire into the matter when she hears a familiar voice calling her name.

"Caroline!" Elena's waving at her from the other end of the street. "Wait, I forgot we need to stop at jeweller's as well!"

When Caroline turns again to face the stranger, he's already gone—along with the box. Caroline gasps. "Did you see him?"

"Who? Where's your dress?" Elena raises an eyebrow.

"That man took it!"

"Well, looks like I'm late to the rescue." The brunette pouts, looking around. At the sight of Caroline's glum face, Elena pats her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, my dear. You can always wear one of my dresses."

"I wanted to wear something new for Tyler."

"He would love you even in a potato sack."

Caroline rolls her eyes at Elena's frivolous remark. Right now she's so upset she might actually consider going in a sack. They walk down the street towards the jeweller's. It's a sunny day in London. Too sunny to fret over a lost dress, Elena says. Caroline sulks.

"It's all his fault! He literally came out of nowhere!"

"You shouldn't be running so fast through the crowd. It's not ladylike." Elena cautions her friend.

"Oh, bother it!" The blonde throws her fist up.

What she isn't aware of are the stranger's wary eyes watching them both from afar.

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Matthew Donovan is busy filling in the files when someone knocks on his office door. Hoping it's not a nurse coming with yet another alarm he sighs, "Please, come in."

He is surprised to see a beautiful blonde around his wife's age, well dressed, walk into the room. She has that overpowering, upper class air around her. She _exudes_ high standards.

"Doctor Donovan?"

"Yes?" He takes his glasses off and clears his throat. He's been doing that a lot lately. Draughts in the hospital are a real torment.

"I attend psychology lectures at university. I wish I could join your study group to investigate most uncommon cases." She keeps her chin up as women of her position would. It's unexpected, however, to have a female student at a mental hospital. Even though women do indulge their whims and attend university lectures, they do not get university degrees. Doctor Donovan could never understand how rich, high-born women would even think of scholarly career. Isn't domestic bliss enough for them?

"I'm sorry, Miss...?"

"Rebekah. Just Rebekah."

"I'm sorry Rebekah, but I don't supervise any study group. It's just my own research." He tries to be as diplomatic about it as he can. "Besides, as a specialist I firmly believe mental illnesses shouldn't interest a lady."

He doesn't get to see the fury in her eyes, because in two long strides the woman gets to his desk. Before Matthew can do anything, she grabs him violently by the collar of his shirt. Her hypnotizing blue eyes make him fall into some kind of trance. He's just staring at her, his pupils dilating along with hers. He feels like he's spiralling down into an endless void. Her eyes. So blue.

_You will accept me as a member of your study group. You will allow me access to every case I deem worthy of my interest. You will share your professional opinions with me. You will teach me everything you know. _

"I will teach you everything I know." He mumbles in a daze. He willallow her access to every case she deems worthy of her interest. He will share his professional opinions with her.

"Good." She grins. "Where do we start?"

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Caroline falls face-flat on her bed and lets out an irritated groan. None of her old dresses fits the occasion. It's hard to hold back tears when all her plans are ruined. It's true Tyler doesn't care if she comes clothed or naked. But it's his big day. It's his time to shine. And since they got almost official, Caroline would like to be a part of the reason people admire Tyler.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Her maid stands in the doorway, holding a large box in her hands. It looks like a gift, with a pretty ribbon wrapped around it. "Someone left it by the door. I think it's for you."

Caroline jerks upright and takes the fancy box from Liz. Curiosity is eating her up, but she waits till her mother leaves the room. Then she hastily unwraps it and covers her mouth, stunned.

A breathtaking, pale pink dress encrusted with a web of diamonds renders her speechless and her heart literally stops for a second. It's quite low-cut, and the shoulder straps are made of the most intricate lace. It must be worth a fortune. And as if it wasn't enough to make her knees weak and wobbly, there's a diamond bracelet to make the look complete. A radiant smile spreads on her face. She clenches her fists and bring them to her face, then she jumps for joy in her will out-shine Elena, for once she will be the gem.

Yes, it's trivial and it's folderol and it's probably low. The modest Caroline in her frowns upon such matters. Hurt vanity did more damage to human race than anything else. But it would be a lie if she said she wouldn't like to be admired just like sweet, charming Elena is.

Her thoughts go back to the puzzling encounter she experienced earlier. Is it possible that man sent her the dress? Or is it just a coincidence, and it's homesick Tyler himself that showers her with gifts? He's been always rather frugal with money. On the other hand, how ridiculous does the story about the generous stranger sound?

Her mind is on fire, but April delivers a cold bucket right in the middle of Caroline's brainstorm. The maid peeps from behind the door and lets out an exasperated huff. Elena and Matt will be here in an hour, Mr. And Mrs. Forbes are ready, yet Caroline isn't even dressed. April's fuss and bother over Caroline takes the blonde's mind off the past events, drawing her attention to more down-to-earth matters.

After she almost went grey with worry because of Tyler's journey, now it's time for some levity in her life.

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The lavish party takes place at Lord Niklaus' mansion. Tyler's house would never meet the requirements as the number of people invited greatly exceeds its capacity. The foreign stranger lives in a real residence. One would feel lonely living in such a palace, but apparently Lord Niklaus enjoys his own company.

The interior is as astonishing as the exterior. Crystal chandeliers on high ceilings. Marble floors. Floral carpets. Golden ornaments. Works of art in every corner. If she had any doubts as to the credibility of Lord Niklaus' aristocratic background, they are all dispelled now.

The guest list range from the upper-middle class to the aristocracy, the former being almost as rich (if not richer sometimes) than the latter thanks to the expansion of the economy. Caroline recognizes many faces that she's seen at various parties before. Society at its best and worst. Rich couples, eligible ladies waiting for attention, bachelors in dire need to find a wife, and old spinsters to make the picture whole. Individuality and progress chasing tradition and strict rules. Building fortunes from nothing versus saving heritage from collapsing.

When the clock strikes seven o'clock, Tyler appears at the top of a grand staircase padded with crimson carpet. Right next to him stands a man in a tailcoat. Caroline squints her eyes to discern the details of his features, but it's too far. The only thing is certain, the man is not a dwarf, neither is he a venerable old man.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am honoured to introduce to you a man that will change the world one day. A man of many talents and immense knowledge. My mentor and friend, whom I would gladly call my family, Lord Niklaus Mikaelson!"

Tyler's speech and the persona of mysterious Lord draw a loud, rapturous applause. The man in question simply bows his head, and waits till the ovation dies down.

"I want to thank you all for being here with me to celebrate. It's been a long time coming, but I am finally home." He wraps an arm around Tyler in a brotherly hug, and Tyler does the same. "Here's to homecoming." He raises his glass of champagne, and the guests follow him. Caroline doesn't notice the music starts playing again, because all she can think of is the host's voice—both familiar and strange, like she's heard it before in a dream.

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Damon Salvatore watches the party progress from a corner. He did not need an invitation. The whole world is Damon Salvatore's ballroom. His eyes scan the crowd, seeking out a certain brunette beauty. He made a mistake when he first met her. A terrible mistake fraught with consequences. He misjudged Elena Donovan, he took the lady for Katherine. But Katherine is dead. Longing for a moment of oblivion, he exposed Elena to danger. Now the Ripper, his own brother devoid of conscience, is after the girl. And Damon must keep her safe.

Not only Damon's eyes are on Elena. Klaus watches the Petrova doppelganger with passive interest. She bears a striking resemblance to Katerina. If only Elijah were here, Klaus smirks to himself.

"Married." He hears the voice of the one and only Caroline Forbes. With his eyebrows playfully raised, Klaus turns to his right to find the blonde standing next to him.

"Care to explain, my lady?"

She smiles at him, content she's just taken him aback. "Elena Donovan. I saw you watching her."

"Believe me, I have no intentions to be a threat to the Donovans' family bliss." He chuckles, taking a sip of champagne. "She just reminds me of someone I once knew."

"A friend?"

The smirk disappears from his face as he refrains himself from commenting. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced." He takes her hand and brings it to his lips. When they brush against the back of her palm, all courage Caroline had so far vanishes into thin air. She takes in his features, and her heartbeat quickens. She could swear to God has seen those lips earlier today. She has heard his voice before.

"Have we me—" Caroline gasps. Someone grabs her from behind and lifts her up, then starts spinning around. "Tyler!" She wraps her hands around his neck and holds onto him so tight she would probably squeeze the last breath out of him if he wasn't a supernatural. "Oh my God!" A single tear rolls down her cheek when he finally puts her down. "I've been waiting so long for this moment. It's you. It's really you."

Klaus watches her wipe the tear. The looks she gives Tyler Lockwood is the same he saw in the boy's dream. It's understanding. Loyalty.

"I see you've already met my friend." Tyler gestures at Klaus.

"Yes." Caroline blushes. "I might have been a little over-familiar and interrupted Lord Niklaus."

"Not at all. And please, call me Klaus."

Tyler clasps his hand over Caroline's and laughs. "Caroline's the outspoken one. Never missing an occasion to laugh in the face of etiquette."

"I admire women who do not feel bound by the trivial social conventions." Klaus' eyes bore into Caroline's. She's well ahead of her times. During his long existence he's seen women like her. Revolutionaries. It's such a shame she won't live long enough to see the world move on. Because it will, eventually, it's the natural course of events. One day, he is sure, women will wear trousers and maybe even carry guns. Caroline, with all her potential, would be one of them.

"Speaking of conventions." Tyler smiles mysteriously. "Come with me," he takes her by the hand, "I have a surprise for you."

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"May I have your attention?" Tyler stands once again on the marble staircase, holding Caroline's hand. When all the faces are turned toward them and curious eyes focus on Tyler's proud smile and Caroline's confused face, he continues. "This party holds more than just one surprise for you. When I first came to London I didn't know anyone. I was miserable, homesick. Then this amazing woman showed me this city can become my home. She became my home."

Caroline can't take her eyes off Tyler. He's changed. It's a subtle change, but it doesn't go unnoticed. There's a secret he doesn't share with her. Is it because the moon doesn't control him anymore?

"I am more than happy to announce that Miss Caroline Forbes and I are now engaged."

She blinks, shocked, and resists the urge to pinch herself. Is it really happening?

The ballroom resounds with thunderous applause. Elizabeth Forbes cries, moved by Tyler's speech. Elena sighs, it's so romantic.

But Caroline doesn't see them.

All she sees is Lord Niklaus Mikaelson standing in the crowd, clapping his hands, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.

**.**

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**.**

**TBC**


End file.
